


No Sheriff to Shoot

by charleybradburies



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, Apocalypse, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Community: 1-million-words, Community: femslashagenda, Demons, Established Relationship, F/F, Female-Centric, Femslash, Hunters & Hunting, Major Character Undeath, Non-Canon Relationship, Non-Graphic Violence, POV Female Character, Sarcasm, Uneasy Allies, Unexpected Visitors, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-29 21:00:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5142281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charleybradburies/pseuds/charleybradburies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ruby didn't ask for this. Okay, so maybe she got herself into this situation - but she still didn't ask for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Sheriff to Shoot

Ruby just barely manages to yank her girlfriend over behind the concrete barrier with her as they’re confronted with the discovery that the asshole vamp from their last bar haunt was - while now _actually_ dead - actually not alone, and company includes weaponry.

“Return fire. Beautiful,” she groans, her voice half gravel and half whisper.

“I swear that this-”

“Charlie, if the next word out your mouth is internet-related, I just might shoot you myself.”

Charlie says nothing, just purses her lips and sits up, her back pressed to the concrete and her boots shuffling the slightest bit closer to the yellow line of the highway. 

Ruby, concealed somewhat by darkness, peeks back over the barrier: maybe six or seven tall men - presumably vampiric - in clothes they probably worked centuries to afford. Not that they didn’t have centuries, or that she and Charlie didn’t, but enough opulence is apparent that she knows she and Charlie would veer far away from the coven even without their current predicament.

“Rotten hellbitch,” one of the bastards grumbles, inching frighteningly close to where Ruby and Charlie are hiding as he carefully approaches his downed comrade. 

“Looked a hell of a lot easier on WikiHow,” Charlie murmurs, finishing her previous sentence, then claps one hand over her mouth as she stretches the other down toward the holster at her hip. Ruby leans into her shoulder with her own hand, and sends her a glare, just _daring_ her to speak again. 

Fortunately, it doesn’t seem that she’s been heard. 

_Super-senses my ass._ Ruby thinks. _Still more work than the fuckin’ zombies, though, who were, as Charlie’d said, nothing that the most robust Walking Dead repertoire could have prepared someone for._

Funnily enough, the zombies, just like the vampires - and, well, basically everything ever - were considerably more formidable in greater numbers. One vamp was practically a breeze to knock off, two or three, not all that hard, but once you got to four they started being able to fight back, even against demons. Most hunters didn’t stand a chance against a whole coven of vampires; some, many Winchesters included, escaped with their lives out of luck far more than skill. 

But the Winchesters, even at their worst, had a heftier moral code than Ruby did - not to mention a big, shiny getaway car. 

Oh, and almost entirely eroded senses of self-preservation. 

Then again, they kept coming back from the dead anyway, so they probably figured they didn’t have to worry all that much. And somehow they’d never really had to face the fact that they’re ultimately alone, that in any given situation one might not have someone who’s got their back, who’s gonna cover them or save them, or even cry if they don’t make it.

As for Ruby, well, any family she’d ever had has long since been long gone, unless significant others could be counted. Not that Sam hadn’t been the most reliable of almost all her past allies, dalliances or not. 

_Winchesters, man._ If Charlie hadn’t repeatedly saved her ass she’d have kicked her off this suicide trip a long time ago, if only because she thought of Dean and Sam as brothers, of that angel - how he was still around, Ruby could barely fathom, let alone how he and Dean weren’t married with adopted kids yet - was an ally and a friend of hers. 

But Charlie, of course, was a fucking godsend (quite possibly literally) and Ruby couldn’t find a reason to ditch her, not even a shitty one, unless talking whilst hiding could count. 

The vampires are divided between mourning and the instinct to hunt down whoever’s ended their friend’s long, and most likely quite violent, life. (Not that she could really judge, but, well, she did.)

An eerily familiar rumble inches closer from a distance. Soon enough, she can identify the sound as attached to the headlights arching over the hill back by the seedy bar a few blocks up the road. Charlie seems to recognize it, too, and they curiously meet each other’s eyes. 

A long black car turns into the bar parking lot, illuminated only the flickering few streetlights farther up the street, and Ruby just _knows_ that they’re in for far more trouble than they signed up for when they followed the blood trail to this spooky little shithole of a town. 

_Oh, no._


End file.
